


i'll do what it takes to make this fly

by literato



Series: Song Fics [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage, Song fic, Ugh, no smut sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literato/pseuds/literato
Summary: How could Harry be so... stupid? So passive and pretending like nothing’s wrong. Of course, something’s wrong. Everything’s wrong. It’s been going on for months since Harry got a promotion and Louis’ not sure if he can take this anymore.oran au inspired by Olly Murs' Up featuring Demi Lovato.





	i'll do what it takes to make this fly

**Author's Note:**

> I really did try to get this to ony like.. 2K words but... yeah.
> 
> Anyway, yes, song fics. Aha, ya'll can request a song and give me like what ir could be abour. If i dont like the song, chances are i eont be able to write it aha.

 

  
_I drew a broken heart right on your window pane, waited for your reply, here in the pouring rain._

  
“Love.” Louis stirs, frowning as he’s woken up. But then he suddenly snaps up, blinking hard as he takes in his situation. Oh, right. He managed to sleep on his desk, again, for like the fourth time this week. He looks to his side and sees Harry kneeling beside him, a fond smile on his lips.

  
“You fell asleep, again.” Harry chuckles, “And you got drool all over your records.” To prove his point, he reaches a hand out to swipe across Louis’ wet bottom lip.

  
Louis, sill in the haze of his sleep, slumps against his seat, “Sorry.”

  
“It’s Friday, though. You have all weekend to finish it before Monday.” Harry reassures, rubbing a hand up and down Louis’ thigh as comfort.

  
“But I only get to have you during weekend so I don’t want to do this shit, and even then, you sometimes get calls at the hospital and you’d have to leave.” Louis knows he’s whining, but he’s simply longing for his husband, who’s simply beside him but feels so far away.

  
“Then,” Harry purses his lisp, trying to compromise, “When I get a call, you can still finish your records, alright?”

  
Louis’ chest constricts. Harry can’t even reassure his husband that maybe, for once in his career life, he would fucking reject a call to spend a day with Louis. It isn’t fair, that Harry would work his ass off day and night at the hospital but still be on-call during the weekends, on his day-offs.

  
Which, alright, he’s got to save his patients and bring good news to their family and save people’s lives every day and... it’s exactly why Louis can’t beg Harry to be home at least a whole twenty hours. He’s got people to save, and not just Louis. Louis can’t be a whiny, selfish bitch, he needs to support his husband.

  
Looking down, Louis realized that Harry’s still waiting for his reply, having taken his hand and rubbing his knuckles, rushing over their wedding band. He nods, eventually, “I’ll just go take a shower. Wanna join me?”

  
“Do you mind if I get in bed already?” Harry says apologetically, “I’m pooped.”

  
Only Harry would use ‘ _pooped_ ’ as a substitute for ‘ _tired_ ’ or ‘ _physically unable to tend to his husband’_. Louis winces at the thought, mentally slapping himself.

  
“That’s alright.” Louis cups his cheeks and leans down. Harry meets him halfway with a kiss, a sweet and short one.

  
“I’ll be on the bed.” Harry says before he gives one last peck. He stands to his feet and leaves Louis’ office. Louis sighs, deciding to just pile the papers into one corner and he’ll just sort them out tomorrow.

  
When he enters their room fresh from the shower, Harry’s surely pooped. He’s on his side of bed, on his stomach and face half buried into Louis’ pillow. Louis smiles fondly and slips a pair of boxers up his legs before he joins Harry, lifting the curly man’s arm and getting under it. Instinctively, Harry pulls him closer.

  
Louis’ the first to wake up hours later, still half awake as he blinks his eyes open. Surely, the sun is up, shining through their thin curtains. The bed feels cold, and Louis then realizes that Harry’s gone.

  
He didn’t.

  
Louis closes his eyes dejectedly. He tries to at least be optimistic, that Harry’s simply up and cooking their breakfast, or doing freaking laundry, or doing anything around the house. Louis blindly reaches for his phone in the nightstand for the time, and he catches sight of a yellow sticky note on it.

  
_Got up early to get groceries xx i left at around 8:12, should be back in an hour. Love you! And good morning xxxxx_

  
Groceries. Louis can deal with groceries. He pulls off the sticky note and sticks it back to their drawer before he clicks open his phone. It’s only 8:20, and oh. Turns out Louis’ just a paranoid husband all over again.

  
He gets up and slips on a shirt, deciding he should just fix his papers before Harry gets home. He can finally have his husband all to himself. He gets fifteen minutes out from cleaning his desk and he walks back out to their living room to turn the telly on and maybe watch a couple of shows before Harry gets home.

  
Harry does, an hour later, carrying bags and bags of groceries as he rushes through the door, “Hi love!” He greets, a wide grin on his face.

  
Louis chuckles to himself, “Hi. You look like you were in a hurry.” He gets up to grab the bags from Harry.

  
“The hospital called me.”

  
Louis freezes, hands tightening around the plastics before he turns, beginning to walk to the kitchen. He tries to keep his tone steady and not at all sad when he says, “Well, that explains it.” He chuckles, putting the bags on the kitchen island, “Well, you should go. They’re waiting for you.”

  
“I promise I’m gonna be home before after dark.” Harry says before Louis hears his footsteps gradually fading.

  
Louis sighs and grips the counter, taking a moment to collect himself. “Come on.” Louis tells himself, “This isn’t the first time.” _Certainly not the last._

  
Harry gets back in less than five minutes, dressed more appropriately and scrubs swung over his shoulder, “Babe.” He calls as he enters the kitchen.

  
“Be careful on your way.” Louis wants to wince at how monotone he is, but he shrugs it off as he leans up to kiss Harry.

  
“I will.” Harry says, a torn expression on his face.

  
Louis forces a smile, “Go.”

  
And he watches Harry’s retreating back before the door closes.

  
_Just breathe against the glass, leave me some kind of sign. I know the hurt won’t pass._

  
Louis’ sat on the couch, knees curled to his chest as he reads his English book. He’s currently making a lesson plan, with a box of pizza on the coffee table with three eaten slices. It’s six o’ clock and the sun is soon to set, but Harry’s still not home. Louis doesn’t know if he’s on his way back either. It becomes so busy in the hospital that Harry has his mind set on only his work during those times. He just appears, and disappears.

  
Louis debates on making dinner for Harry, and he settles after making sure to do so after reading the story.

  
At seven, the door opens and Louis looks up from his book, smiling as he watches Harry come in and close the door behind himself. Louis greets, “Hey.”

  
“Hi.” Harry says, obviously tired. He places his scrubs on the arm of the couch before he sprawls on the couch. Louis leans over to put his book down, letting Harry rest his head on his lap.

  
Harry nuzzles his stomach. If it were in any other time, he would probably be mouthing Louis’ cock, but now, he’s tired and so, so drained. Louis strokes his hair, hearing Harry almost purr.

  
When he speaks, though, his tone is extremely guilty, “It’s after dark.”

  
“I know.” Louis says.

  
“I’m sorry.” Harry’s peering up at him with those green eyes.

  
“I know.” Louis tries to give him a smile.

  
“It’s just... tons of surgery, less employees. And the head surgeon thinks I’m the best, well, other than himself. It’s why I get called a lot.” Harry explain, resting an arm over his eyes.

  
“I’m proud of you.” Louis says. He really is.

  
_Just tell me it’s not the end of the line._

  
“I really love you.” Harry speaks again, taking his arm off to gaze back at Louis, “And thank you so much for being supportive.” He leans up, cupping Louis’ jaw to give him a kiss.

  
Louis giggles into it, “Been doing that for over a decade now.”

  
Harry smiles against his lips, “I know.” And Louis remembers every moment. They’d always be there for each other in every failing or winning moment.

  
Harry settles back down , “How about you? Did you finish your lesson plan?”

  
“I can finish it tomorrow.”

  
“Hm.” Harry pouts, jutting out his bottom lip, “I have a day-off tomorrow.”

Louis giggles, “Then I’ll finish it today.”

  
Harry sits up and cuddles extra close to Louis, “Good. You’re still not telling me that you love me back. Should I be worried?”

  
Louis rolls his eyes and squeezes Harry’s cheeks, “I have loved you for the past decade that we’ve known each other and I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

  
Harry, seeming satisfied, breaks into a grin before he wraps his arms around Louis’ waist before leaning backwards, lying back on the sofa with Louis on his chest. The latter giggles, swatting Harry on the chest.

  
Harry kisses him, making the kiss longer this time. He wraps an arm around Louis and rests a hand on the dip of his back. He licks across Louis’ bottom lip, slipping into his mouth after Louis opens.

  
Louis squeaks, squealing as Harry suddenly squeezes his bum through his sweatpants. Louis pulls back, raising an eyebrow, “I thought you wanted me to finish the lesson plan.”

  
“We can do both in under an hour.” Harry says smugly.

  
“Ugh, you’re the worst.” Louis says, but he does ground his hips down to Harry’s. The way Harry tosses his head back and bites his lips just has him moving down

  
_I never meant to break your heart, I never meant to make you cry._

  
Harry watches as Louis’ smile slowly fall from his face as Harry’s phone rings from its place in the counter. They’re eating lunch in the sofa, watching reruns of Masterchef and simply bantering about their favorite competitors and chefs when Harry’s phone absolutely ruins the moment.

  
It could be anyone, really, but the hospital calls come more often than necessary that it’s impossible to be anyone else.

  
“I’ll...” Harry nods and puts down his sandwich before he goes to the kitchen. He answers it, “Yes?”

  
“Dr. Styles, Dr. Scotts called in sick just now and--.” Harry closes his eyes in pure frustration as the nurse rattles in his ear. He’s pretty sure he’s hurting his knuckles from where it’s pressed on the marble of the counter to hard.

  
It only loosens when Louis comes into view, hand rubbing up and down his tensed arm. Harry sends him an apologetic look and Louis just sends him that familiar look, the one that he gives whenever Harry has to go, the one filled with sympathy and the slightest bit of hurt. Louis nods, then, giving him a small smile.

  
Harry sighs heavily, turning back to the phone, “Give me the details later. I’ll be there.” He then hangs up.

  
“Emergency?” Louis asks.

  
Harry faces him, “Why aren’t you mad about any of this?” He doesn’t it to be a challenge, but at this rate, Harry can only wonder if Louis’ patience is endless. He knew he’d be fucking pissed at himself.

  
“About you saving people’s lives?”

  
“But..—“ Harry falters. He nods, eventually, “I’m gonna get dressed.” He walks past Louis, ignoring the pang in his chest. He really wants to just stay home. To just, for once, get to say no.

  
But that being said, he feels like letting people down. The people who need him, the people who needs saving. He did study for endless years for this very reason.

  
Walking back to the living room, Harry stops when he hears a sniffling nearby. He peeks and he sees Louis on the couch. Thankfully, the couch is facing away from the hallway. Harry feels himself sag when Louis gives another sniffle before the latter wipes his tears away.

  
Harry walks over and hug him from behind, kissing his cheek over and over again, “I love you. I love you.”

  
Louis chuckles and if Harry hadn’t seen him, he would’ve thought that nothing’s wrong, “Love you, too, you dork.”

  
Harry leaves unwillingly, even if Louis’ practically shoving him out of the door.

  
_You drew a question mark but you know what I want_

  
“Do... Do you uh..” Louis curses himself for stammering, “.. a lot? To do today?”

  
Harry purses his lips, appearing to be deep in thought as he pulls on a navy blue button polo, “I have a three patients in the clinic then a few check-ups in the hospital.”

  
“So, you’ll be home early?” Louis asks hopefully, “Not early obviously but uh... earlier than usual?”

  
Harry smiles and walks over, sitting beside Louis on the bed, “I think, yeah.”  
Louis grins and he couldn’t stop himself when he throws himself in Harry’s lap and gives a deep kiss, “Yay.”

  
Harry chuckles, “I gotta go, yeah? I love you, so much.”

  
With one last kiss, Louis watches his husband go. He wishes the day could go by a hundred times faster.

  
In school, his students are particularly surprised when they saw their teacher in a seemingly good mood. Well, Louis can’t blame them. He normally enters the class with such tensed shoulders and strict personality, but if he wants to feel laid back, then he doesn’t see what’s wrong.

  
Time goes by, and Louis finds himself in their kitchen, stirring up some vegetable soup while brownies bake in the oven. He’s cooking quite a dinner tonight, and since Harry told him he’s got an early out, he’s determined to make the most of it for today.

  
_Cooking dinner!!! Careful on your way home, love you! Xxx_

  
He meant is as a surprise for Harry, but he can’t resist. The best thing he can is tell Harry he’s cooking. At least it’s not a lie. As usual, Harry doesn’t text back. Which probably means he’s still in the hospital. Louis shrugs and puts down his phone to continue to fry the pork chops.

  
An hour later and he’s done cooking, setting the table up but keeping the food on standby. He sends Harry another text, asking where he is before he looks around the house. He can spare time while Harry drives home. He hums his favorite song as he does so, putting things back to certain places and wiping down what’s full of dust.

  
Another hour, and it’s nine o’clock. Louis’ done cleaning and he goes back to his dinner. They’re warm now, on the verge of cooling completely, but that’s what a microwave is for.

  
Another hour, and Louis stands on the kitchen, leaning against the island as he waits for his phone to vibrate, or to ring. Or for Harry to come home.  
Another hour, and Louis gets up from the kitchen and begins to put back the plates and silverwares in the drawers, all the while trying to keep his emotions on check. He gets to the last plate, shutting the drawer. He hears the door creak open and shut a few seconds later, and the dam fucking _breaks_.

  
He’s gripping the sink too hard, trying to control his cries but he’s not that of a quiet crier. He’s more like an ugly one, with snot and ugly faces, especially when he’s hysterical.

  
“Lou! I’m—“

  
Louis hears momentary silence before he’s getting felt up, Harry’s hands on his waist as the curly man tries to peek over Louis ‘ shoulder, “Baby, what—what’s going on? Why are you...”

  
Louis covers his face with his hands. He tries to slide past Harry but the man grabs his forearms and gently pins him, “Love, I... you cooked dinner.”

  
Louis doesn’t answer. He fucking can’t. He’s sad and _embarrassed_ and he can’t bring himself to face Harry. But alas, Harry manages to pry Louis’ hands from his face.

  
“Love.” Harry sounds strained and extremely guilty, “I-I’m really sorry. This all seems so nice. If—If I knew that you cooked for us I would’ve... I wouldn’t have taken Jones’ place.” Harry’s continuing to mutter more apologies, but Harry’s hearing freezes up to that sentence.

 

“You what?” Louis asks, finally looking at Harry, “You took what?”

  
Harry winces, “Jones told me his wife had gone sick and he needed to go so I... I filled in his last two hours.”

  
Louis feels angry, then. Fucking seething, and his tears suddenly stops, replaced by frustration as he shoves Harry back, “I was here, waiting all night for you to come home, and I was so close to just throwing these out.” Louis gestures to the meals, “And I found out that you went home late because you took someone’s place? When you literally could’ve been here with me _hours_ ago?” His breath is shaky and unstable, “Do I need to fucking _die_ first—“ Harry winces at the word, “-- before you realize that I’m still here? That I need you, too, just as freaking Jones’ wife needs him?”

  
“Lou, it was really an emergency—“

  
“ _Don’t_.” Louis says, his eyes getting teary and blurry all over again.

  
“I couldn’t say no! What do you want me to do?” Harry asks, defending himself.

  
Louis lets out a humorless chuckle, wiping his cheeks before he shakes his head, “Forget I said anything.” He starts to walks past Harry but the latter catches his wrist.

  
“Where are you going?”

  
“I’m taking a shower.” Louis says simply, not bothering to look back as he grabs some clothes from his drawer before slipping into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

  
How could Harry be so... stupid? So passive and pretending like nothing’s wrong. Of course, something’s wrong. _Everything’s_ wrong. It’s been going on for months since Harry got a promotion and Louis’ not sure if he can take this anymore.

  
Louis turns the shower to the hottest, not even flinching when the steaming water hits his skin like wildfire. He’s still seething, but the longer he stands there, the clearer he feels how much he misses Harry.

  
Louis sniffles, releasing another embarrassing sob as he wipes his tears even if they blend with the water.

  
He just wants Harry.

  
_You gotta hold on, hold on to what you’re feeling_

  
Harry paces back and forth in the hallway right outside the bathroom. The shower’s on, but Harry can hear and feel Louis’ sobs. They’re heart-wrenching, and Harry feels his own tears making his way up to his eyes.

  
He can’t believe he’s the cause of all this. It’s no doubt that they’re reaching the hard point of their relationship. They’ve had fights before, and this is just one of them. But he still can’t stand that Louis’ hurt because of him.

  
He loves his job, he really does. He loves being able to be people’s hope and he loves the feeling of having his patients thank him.

But he can’t live to that feeling forever. One day, he’ll retire. And when he retires, he wants to have Louis and only him beside him. If he keeps this act up, if they don’t compromise properly, Louis may just give up on him.

  
The shower stops and Harry pauses his pacing, gulping as silence fills again. It’s a few minutes later when the door opens. Louis comes out, then, wiping his hair with his towel. He’s dressed now, and just from that Harry knows something is wrong because neither of them use the bathroom to get dressed.

  
As soon as he catches sight of Harry, Louis blinks, and Harry comes to him immediately, “Lou. Come on, let’s talk about this, yeah?”

  
Louis doesn’t look at him, “I’m tired. I’m gonna go straight to bed.” He tries to get around Harry but the latter blocks his path, pleading.

  
“Baby, please.”

  
“Jesus, Harry.” Louis says, his tone harsh and full of frustration. He looks up and Harry can see how tired he looks, eyes all red and teary from all the crying he’s done, “I want to sleep.”

  
When Harry doesn’t answer, Louis walks past him again. Turning in confusion, Harry sees Louis head to the other direction where the guest room is.

  
“O-Our room is over there.” Harry dumbly says.

  
Louis stops but doesn’t bother turning around, “I’m gonna sleep in the guest room for now.”

  
For now, Harry can hold on to that. But.

  
He steps towards Louis just as his tears begin to fall, sniffling

uncontrollably as he tugs Louis in his arms, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He roughly says, voice muffled as he tucks his head in Louis’ neck, “And I love you. I love you so much.” He squeezes Louis harder even when the latter doesn’t give an effort in hugging him back.

  
Harry pulls away, wiping under his nose, “I’m sorry.”

  
Louis looks like he’s going to break any second now, but when he speaks, his voice is much softer, “We’ll talk tomorrow.” And he walks to the guest room, doesn’t give a single glance back to his husband.

  
_I’m gonna place my bet on us. I know this love is heading in the direction. That’s up._

  
Louis doesn’t know if he’s slept a blink. He doesn’t even try to. He keeps on tossing and turning and all he keeps thinking about is how he misses Harry’s smell, and the firmness of his arms around Louis, and his light snores, and his warmth.

  
Louis has stopped crying, thankfully, but a tear would fall now and then. He doesn’t know what to do. It’s like fucking fate took a big shit on them.

  
He must have sounded selfish, how he demanded time to Harry when other people needed his presence more. It’s why he hasn’t said anything about this whole problem. He doesn’t want to appear like he’s holding Harry back.  
Glancing at the clock, Louis sees that the time is one o’ clock. He’s only been here for like an hour and a half. And he’s ready to cave in.

  
It takes him half hour to get up the bed, only because he keeps on debating between the more versions of himself on his left and right shoulder. It’s ridiculous, but eventually he shoves them back as he walks out of the room and quietly tiptoes to his and Harry’s room.

  
Gripping the door knob, Louis gives a silent prayer that Harry would be asleep and completely oblivious. Then, Louis would slip under his arm without any protest and maybe then, he could survive through the night.  
Harry’s not, though, asleep, that is.

  
He’s on his stomach on the bed, sprawled out and clutching Louis’ pillow under his face. His brow is furrowed and his eyes are closed. If he didn’t open his eyes when Louis came in, the latter would celebrate.

  
“Lou?” Harry asks, voice rough. He leans on an elbow as he reaches for the lamp, flicking it on, illuminating a dim light.

  
“Don’t ask.” Louis mumbles, cheeks heating up as he flicks the lamp back off before climbing into the bed beside Harry. Instinctively, he rests his head against Harry’s broad chest. Harry lets him in, of course he does, and he wraps his arms tighter around Louis than usual.

  
Louis wakes up with the sun shining in his face. He momentarily panics, thinking he’s late but he remembers it’s Saturday. And he realizes that Harry’s still beside him.

  
Louis sits up, jostling Harry harder than he thought and the man stirs awake, frowning before he stretches. Louis tries not to stare too much at Harry’s back muscles as they flex and relax.

  
“Hey.” Harry says. Louis sees how his hand twitches beside Louis’ thigh before he pulls away.

  
“Hi.” Louis says.

  
“Uh..—“

  
“I’m sorry.” Louis blurts out.

  
Harry doesn’t say anything, and Louis doesn’t let him, “I’m sorry for being selfish. I-I do understand that you have patients and you have priorities and I’m really sorry for being such a brat about it. I do love you, and I guess that I wad just upset because of the dinner a-and—“

  
“Louis.” Harry breathes out. He sits up and moves until he’s in front of Louis. He clutches at his husband’s hands tightly, “Who the hell told you you were being selfish? If anything, you’ve been supportive in every way possible and I took it as an advantage.” Harry looks pained.

  
“Harry, I—“

  
“No. This isn’t your fault.” Harry says firmly, “I haven’t been able to tend to you. I haven’t been around to talk to you.”

  
“But—“

  
“I am doctor, but I’m also your husband, Louis. We’re supposed to take care of each other and I haven’t been doing my part. I know you understand that I have patients but I also have _you_ , Louis. I have you, I’ll always have you. You’re my number one priority and obviously you’re not feeling like it anymore.” Harry looks incredibly guilty, eyes pleading.

  
“Well, not necessarily...—“

  
“I’m sorry.” Harry kisses Louis’ knuckles before holding them to one of his own cheeks, “I’m sorry.”

  
Louis feels like he’s about to cry again. But instead he just nods and stands on his knees, letting himself fall on Harry’s arms. Harry holds him, rocking them slightly as he whisper sweet nothings and apologies in Louis’ ear.

  
“I won’t let it get this bad ever again, I promise.” Harry repeats over and over again, pressing kisses at the back of Louis’ ear.

  
Soon, though, Louis’ wriggling from Harry’s hold, giggling as he says he’s got to use the bathroom. Harry lets him go with a pout. As Louis disappears, Harry’s phone rings. Harry sighs and answers it, “Hello?”

  
“Dr. Styles, a patient is scheduling an appointment for today at around noon—“

  
“Tell the patient to reschedule it during the weekdays or have Dr. Wilson take it. It’s my day-off today.” Harry says.

  
“Oh, but—“

  
“I won’t have time to go by there today. Please send my apologies to the patient.” Harry hangs up, making sure to turn off his phone before shoving it in his drawer.

  
Louis walks in that moment, playing with the hem of his shirt, “Um... I heard your phone ring.”

  
Harry pulls him back to bed. He scoots closer and nuzzles Louis’ neck, “It was the hospital.”

  
“Oh.” Louis doesn’t say anything more.

  
Harry can almost hear what he’s thinking, though, “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

  
Louis smiles, “Oh.” He says, much lighter, “Well, we could eat our leftover from yesterday, then?”

  
Harry chuckles, “You bet.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> ❤


End file.
